Charlotte’s eyes were about as big as teacups as she turned to Emmeline. “He’s never wrong.”
Emmeline chanced a glance at Captain Ridout. His expression was serious as well, but the gray of his eyes had lightened.
“Pray tell, when will this storm arrive?” she asked.
“By this afternoon.” The rumble of his voice set off the fluttering in her stomach.
“Well,” Emmeline said, “I will look forward to it then.”
Chapter 9
Hudson might have predicted a storm, but he hadn’t predicted the fierce gale that seemed ordered by the mighty Zeus himself and carried out by one of his minor counterparts. Perhaps Hudson was letting his imagination get away with more than usual since he was sitting on the opposite side of the library from Miss Finch and the children as she read to them tales of mythology in front of the fire light.
The sun had set over an hour ago, but it seemed no one wanted to leave this cozy space. Hudson least of all. Once the wind had proclaimed that it wasn’t going to pass any time soon, Hudson had sent Mrs. Cooper and the other staff members home. Hudson had no doubt that there’d be plenty of cleanup work in the morning around the estate and throughout the entire village. His garden had already been quite ravaged.
So here he sat, as mesmerized as his nephew and niece while Miss Finch read, although he was likely mesmerized more by the woman doing the reading than by the actual story. Still, he chuckled when Charlotte and Andrew both gasped when Miss Finch informed them how Icarus’s wings melted when he flew too close to the sun.
A gust of wind rattled the windows just as the rain picked up until it sounded like small pebbles were pelting the glass. But the children didn’t notice. And Hudson couldn’t blame them. He supposed if he sat so close to Miss Finch, he might not notice anything outside of their cozy circle either.
Why had he even thought that a governess would be a bad idea? Of course, he couldn’t imagine this scene playing out if he’d hired any of the other applicants. No, he’d been right to wait, because quite frankly, Miss Finch made this house feel like a home.
Home.
Hudson mused on the word. He hadn’t felt this in many years, truly since before he went to boarding school and was relegated to holidays at the manor. Hudson didn’t want time to move backward or forward but to remain here in this very moment on this very evening. The wind faded, and even the rain seemed to lighten. If this was the worst of the storm, perhaps tomorrow’s cleanup wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.
The firelight had bewitched the color of Miss Finch’s hair. Hudson could almost believe that if he reached out to touch one of her locks, he’d singe his fingers. Just then, she lifted those dark green eyes, and their gazes connected.
She seemed expectant, and he realized the children were looking at him too. Had Miss Finch asked him a question? Should he admit that he’d been completely lost in thought?
Andrew broke the silence. “Won’t you tell us?”
Hudson cleared his throat. “Tell you what?”
“Why, your favorite mythology tale, of course,” Andrew continued.
Charlotte yawned, and this in fact was enough for Hudson to say, “I think we should save it for tomorrow night. It’s quite late.”
Both Andrew and Charlotte immediately protested.
But Hudson was quite sure that one story would turn into a second, then a third. Besides, this would give the children something to look forward to. He pushed himself to his feet, hiding a wince as several darts of pain lanced through his bad ankle. “Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said. “If you go to bed without complaint tonight, then I’ll tell you my story tomorrow night.”
Andrew’s nod was resolute, and Charlotte released another yawn.
“Come on,” Hudson said, crossing the room to the pair of children.
Charlotte only leaned closer to Miss Finch and locked their fingers together.
“I’ll walk up with you,” she said. “How does that sound?”
Charlotte nodded, and Hudson found that his heart had started an irregular beat. What should it matter that they would put the children to bed together? It wasn’t so unusual for a governess to help, was it?
Perhaps it was the lack of other staff about that had Hudson more aware of the whisper of Miss Finch’s skirts, the soft tread of her shoes, and the scent of subtle perfume in her wake as she led the way up the staircase, candle in hand.
Hudson carried a second candle so there was plenty of light for them to make their way to the children’s bedchambers.
Charlotte insisted that Miss Finch be the one to tuck her in, and Hudson hovered in the doorway as Charlotte requested both a hug and a kiss.
He wondered if this was like a typical night for Charlotte before her parents died. Did her mother tuck her in each night with a hug and kiss? What about Andrew? The boy had gone to bed stoically on his own, like usual, which gave Hudson pause as well.
His wandering mind was the cause of Miss Finch turning from Charlotte’s bed to find him watching her. She gave him a slight smile, then moved past him out into the hallway.
Hudson pulled Charlotte’s door closed, then turned to Miss Finch.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night,” he replied, although he wanted to say more. What exactly, he didn’t know.
He watched her head down the hallway, her candle lighting the way.
“Miss Finch?” he said.
She paused, then looked back. The glow of the candlelight made her look like a Greek mythology goddess herself. He wasn’t sure why he’d ever thought freckles might bother him. They did quite the opposite, in fact.
“I’ll see you to the attic,” he said. “To be sure you get there all right.”
Her cheek dimpled. “Captain Ridout, I am perfectly able—”
“It won’t take but a moment,” he said. “And then I’ll rest easier.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, but she also didn’t break her gaze. “Well, if it will ease your mind.”
He was pretty sure she was silently laughing at him, but in the very next moment, the wind struck again, so hard that windows rattled beyond the corridor.
Miss Finch’s candle wavered, and Hudson reached her in two strides. “I can hold that for you.”
Her eyes had widened, and it took a lot of concentration not to pull her close and offer her some comfort. It wasn’t like they could all sleep in the same room tonight. They’d all have to weather the storm separately.
But when they reached her attic room, Hudson carrying both candles, he could see that it would be impossible to sleep. The attic window would hold fast against the storm, but it was certainly receiving the brunt of the wind and rain. Not even a baby could sleep through the rattling.
“Perhaps you can take a bedchamber on the second level,” Hudson said. “I can sleep in the library.”
Miss Finch turned to face him, and at first he thought she’d say no.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said in a faint voice.
“I don’t mind.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll wait outside if you want to fetch whatever clothing you need for the night.”
She nodded, and he swung the door closed.
When she emerged, she carried a bundle and the candle he’d left lit in her bedchamber.
Walking through the dark house with a storm raging outside and only the spot of candlelight to guide them made Hudson feel more aware of Miss Finch than ever. He could practically hear her breathing.
The only room that would be decent enough for her to sleep in was his own. So she waited outside his bedchamber while he gathered a few items. When he emerged, she was leaning against the opposite wall.
“Do you need anything else before I go downstairs?” he asked.
Her gaze flickered to his. “What keeps you awake at night, Captain Ridout? I mean, what is your mind thinking about?”
He hadn’t expected this question.
When h
e didn’t answer right away, she added, “I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”
Hudson exhaled. “I’m not sure exactly how to answer. As I said before, I’ve had this trouble since I was a lad. Perhaps my body and mind don’t need what everyone else’s seems to need. I seem to survive just fine.”
Miss Finch kept her gaze solidly on his face. “It is quite the phenomenon.”
He was about to agree when he heard a young voice.
“Uncle, the wind is scary!”
Charlotte had come out of her bedroom. She looked like a tiny thing in her white nightgown and unbraided hair.
“I’ll take care of her,” Miss Finch murmured and started toward the girl.
Hudson watched as Miss Finch grasped Charlotte’s hand and the two of them disappeared into her bedchamber.
He stood in the hall for a moment or two, debating what he should do. Finally, deciding that Miss Finch had matters well in hand, he headed down to the main level. Just as he reached the library, a thump sounded overhead. The telltale sound of Andrew hopping out of his bed.
Hudson groaned. Now what? This night might be more than Miss Finch or he had bargained for. He picked up the nearly guttered candle and headed back up the stairs.
Andrew’s bedroom was empty, so Hudson next walked toward Charlotte’s.
There, he found both Charlotte and Andrew curled up next to Miss Finch on Charlotte’s bed. And Miss Finch was quietly singing.
Charlotte’s eyes were closed, but Andrew was awake. He brought a finger to his lips as if to make sure Hudson didn’t disturb Miss Finch’s song. So Hudson settled into a chair on the other side of the room. As the wind screeched and the rain made its triumphant return, Miss Finch continued to sing softly until, quite remarkably, Andrew fell asleep too.
Hudson had every intention of leaving the room and making the trek back to the library. But somehow his eyes had slipped shut, and when he next opened them, Charlotte’s bedchamber was filled with golden sunlight.
Chapter 10
Emmeline couldn’t move. She was trapped by two warm bodies on either side, and they had seemed so scared last night that she hated to wake them.
But she had a greater problem. Captain Ridout was lightly snoring in the chair on the opposite side of the room. His breathing was deep, and his entire body more relaxed than she’d ever seen it. With his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded over his chest, he could have very well been in deep thought.
Yet. He was sound asleep.
If there was any way she could avoid waking him, especially knowing how much trouble he had sleeping in the first place, she’d do it. But Emmeline was fairly certain the house would start filling with staff soon. Ever so carefully, she slipped out from beneath the two children and crept out of the room. She didn’t dare swing the door shut, because what if the hinges made sounds?
Scurrying up the back stairs to her attic bedchamber, Emmeline quickly shut the door and leaned against it, catching her breath. Then she stole across the room and looked out the attic window. Sure enough, she saw the gardener on the grounds below. Since he was married to the cook, mostly likely Mrs. Pratt would be entering the house at any moment. Emmeline had made her escape and saved her reputation with minutes to spare.
She scanned the garden area. The plants had taken a beating during the storm, and she could almost feel Mr. Pratt’s dismay all the way up to the attic. She wouldn’t hide out for long in her room. When she heard all the others moving about the house, she’d join the gardener and see about putting things to right. But for now, she needed to stay out of sight and hope that the children didn’t mention all of the events of last night.
But the moments passed, and she finally curled up on her bed and pulled a blanket over her. She’d slept poorly two nights in a row, and now she was feeling the effects of it. Because of this, it was entirely possible that she’d imagined the way Captain Ridout had watched her last night. There were a few times, especially when they were in the hallway alone together, that she thought she saw interest and appreciation in his eyes. The kind that she’d observed in other men’s gazes. Toward other women, of course—never her.
Perhaps it was the late hour and the unusual circumstances. How they were in such close proximity to each other, likely more than usual between a master of the house and the governess. The storm had brought out a different side to all of them. The children had been distressed. Captain Ridout had been fiercely protective of . . . them, and . . . her.
She’d been willing to let her mind leap to things it shouldn’t be entertaining. Such as what a man like Captain Ridout looked for in a woman. And more specifically, what did he think about her? Not in a romantic way, because that was impossible. Emmeline was too much of everything. Her sister-in-law had been sure to point out her faults and suggest improvement. Frankly, Emmeline hadn’t cared enough after Alicia and Mr. Baker’s betrothal to make any refinements to her person.
All the same, Emmeline had enjoyed her conversations with the captain, and he hadn’t died of boredom from her. At least not yet. Was he just a polite man? Trained to interact with decorum no matter the person? And was she reading too much into the fact that he’d escorted her to her bedchamber and then insisted that she take his own room for the night?
What a thing to consider. Sleeping in the captain’s bed on a stormy night. She doubted she’d have slept a wink, because surely the bedding smelled of his spice and sandalwood—a scent she had now exclusively associated with him. She could also admit that she’d become familiar with the different shades of his gray eyes. Her favorite was when they were at their lightest, mirroring the morning sea just before dawn.
There was no doubt that Captain Ridout was a complex man. Last night, she was sure he’d been about to confess what he ruminated over during his sleepless hours before Charlotte had come out of her room. Now she’d never know what he was about to say. Unless the opportunity presented itself again and she found herself carrying her nightgown from the attic to the second floor again.
Emmeline sat up in bed, horror washing over her.
She’d left her bundle of nightclothes downstairs . . . for anyone to discover. What if Mrs. Cooper or Mrs. Pratt found it?
Emmeline scrambled off the bed, her heartbeat pulsing in her throat. This could be very disastrous, to say the least. She rummaged through her wardrobe and quickly pulled out a different dress so that it wouldn’t be the same one from yesterday. After changing, she opened her bedchamber door and headed down the stairs, her senses attuned to any sounds that she might recognize.
But she didn’t hear the children as she reached the second floor. Hesitating, she wondered if she should check inside the rooms. She was quite sure she’d left her nightgown in Charlotte’s room. She was about to head down the hallway when the door to Charlotte’s room creaked wide.
Captain Ridout stepped out. He didn’t see her at first, so she got a view of the man having apparently just awakened.
His hair was askew, and the whiskers on his face a dark shadow. But when his eyes did connect with hers, she saw that they were decidedly less weary than the day before.
Did this mean he’d slept well? In a chair?
“Miss Finch,” Captain Ridout said, his voice a low rasp. “I was about to bring you this.”
His morning voice was quite pleasant. And in his hand he held her night things.
“Oh, I was hoping to retrieve that before . . . uh, before . . .” Her words stuck.
Captain Ridout continued to stride toward her because she also hadn’t managed to take a single step. His gray eyes were light this morning, and that alone gratified her.
“Thank you.” She accepted the clothing bundle from him. She felt strangely self-conscious to know that he’d touched her nightgown. She pushed back the growing warmth in her chest. He was standing rather close to her. “I was worried . . .” Again, the words stopped.
“Last night was unplanned and unexpected,” he said quiet
ly. “I certainly didn’t mean to fall asleep in that chair.” As if to prove his point, he tilted his head as if to stretch his neck.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up when I left,” she said, keeping her voice low as well.
“Not at all.” His gaze raked over her face, and typically she’d worry that he was seeing only freckles, but he didn’t look at all repelled. “I think it was the sun, and the fact that I’m not used to sleeping for such a long stretch.”
“I’m glad you slept,” Emmeline blurted out. “You look less tired.”
His brows rose at that comment. “I do?”
“Perhaps sleeping in a chair suits you.”
The curve of his lips as he smiled at her made her wish that every night could be a terrible storm, followed by a glorious morning teasing this man in the corridor.
“Do you suggest I sleep every night in a chair?”
“Perhaps not every night.” Emmeline couldn’t help but return his smile—a smile that was so different than when Mr. Baker had smiled at her. Captain Ridout’s smile didn’t say, I need something from you, but instead seemed to say, I see you.
“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I fear my neck would protest greatly.”
“You’re right.” She clutched her bundle of clothing a bit closer as if to put up some sort of barrier between the two of them. “It wouldn’t be practical, and I’m the last person to encourage you to experience another reason not to sleep.”
He dropped his hand from his neck, and he seemed to move closer without moving at all. Was he leaning? This close, she realized his eyes weren’t solely gray but contained murky blue.
“What if sleeping so well last night had nothing to do with the chair?” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
She dragged in a breath. “Perhaps it was the excitement of the storm. It wore you out.”
He chuckled, and she wished she could hold that sound in her heart.
“Or perhaps . . . it was your most excellent storytelling.”
Now Emmeline was the one to laugh. “I’m no better than the next governess.”
To Love a Governess Page 12
